In Waiting, Take Two

Today is Sept. 11. As much as I would like to have this baby as soon as possible, the Lord willing, today's date wouldn't be good. My father is visiting, and said if she came today, we'd have to name her "Disaster." Not good. I do feel more "raw" down there today, if I may say so. Yesterday, what I think may have been the "mucus plug" (the "plug" in the cervix during pregnancy) came unplugged while I went to the bathroom. Apparently, labor follows this unplugging within a day or two, which I'm hoping is the case. Let's just wait at least one minute after midnight, OK, baby? so it's Sept. 12.
Funny enough, my Mom just took apart a 2000 piece puzzle of the Twin Towers yesterday, which we'd been trying so hard to finish but gave up. I had taken it out to occupy us indoors during the week long "Fickle Fay" tropical storm, not knowing how impossibly hard it would be to complete it. After doing about 3/4 of it, we got so tired of not having our large round white table, especially having my Mom and Dad as guests, that I gave my Mom permission to pack it up. My nanny, M, who had also invested hours into it, gladly took it and wanted to tackle it on her own. I'm glad it's gone. I had hesitated if I'd wanted to meditate on a disaster just weeks prior to this baby's birth.
I've been trying to take action to speed up this birthing process. Last night, I jogged through the yard with the kids, if you could even call it jogging. It was more like strained walking with pitiful hops. My daughters kept telling me, "Mom, that's not jogging!" Maybe they'll understand one day.
My parents have been here all week anticipating the birth of their third grandaughter, but their time has run out. I've reassured them that their presence here has not been in vain and has been greatly appreciated. They've been so busy cooking, weeding my whole garden, mowing the lawn, playing with the children, and simply giving me nice company, which has been making the time pass by for me alot more quickly. I also simply feel more at ease when other adults are around and don't feel the pressure of full responsibility of the children. That has been a great blessing, especially now that I don't have as much energy as usual to do things with the kids. And quite frankly, the discomfort of my huge belly has made me a bit of a grump at times, so the kids have greatly benefited from having lively, cheery adults around.
Now I'll continue with "Labor Story" Number Two, when my second daughter, J, was born. Several months prior to her due date, we had moved out of our farming village outside of Bern, Switzerland, to a neighborhood closer into town. We were sad to leave our village, where we'd made so many dear friends, but having no car, I couldn't do the shopping on foot or by bike anymore being pregnant with a one year old. With only the first child, it was doable, pushing her three miles round-trip with a load of groceries in my back-pack on the way back, but being pregnant and anticipating another one...nope. We were somewhat settled in by the due date, but we still had boxes all around and certainly had not prepared a baby room. We had an old Swiss antique cradle passed down to us from my husband's family, and that was enough at first.
When I was about to pop and was gettting one new stretch mark a day (I only got them with J), I was examined by my OB, and, as my mid-wife had warned us, he "popped the plug," the "mucus plug," that is. Apparently, he was one of those doctors who liked to have timely births, so he did this to get it on with. I can't say he did it for sure, but that night, when going to the bathroom, I did see a big wad of mucus in the toilet. Is this too disgusting to write in a blog? Oh well, it's just the way it is in this world of having babies! Anyway, the next night, I did go into labor, and boy did I go into labor. Again, as I'd said about the first labor story, those were the days when my uterus was in good shape!
The labor hit hard from the very start at about 1 in the morning, but I just thought I had to go poop really bad. Three times, I got up to go do what I thought was a certain number, but nothing came out, at least not as much as I felt should come out. Then there was blood when I wiped, and then I realized the pressure wasn't a big poop, it was a head trying to come out! Since we still didn't have a car, we'd planned to call a taxi. But first, we had to call our friend from our old village, Julia, to come pick up our daughter, S. When I told her the contractions were already three minutes apart, she said, "WAS?!" (WHAT?!) and said she'd get there right away and take us to the hospital herself. As agonizing as that ride was, I remember the sweet, reassuring feeling it was to hold my daughter, S's, hand the whole ride there. She thought all my moans and groans during contractions were funny, and she giggled and sang and talked the whole way. We checked in, waited a few grueling minutes in the lobby, I got in a wheelchair, but then got out and walked because I couldn't sit down, went up a couple floors in the elevator, and then bent over in pain once out of the elevator. My mid-wife came out and greeted us and urged me to come straight to the birthing room. I told her no and said I couldn't walk, but then she said in a thick Bernese accent, "But Georgia, you don't want to give birth in the hall, do you?!" At that, I mustered all my strength together and walked what seemed a mile to the room. As soon as I arrived, I collapsed over a Pilates ball with my knees on the floor, pushed a couple of times and J was out! From that first onset of labor on the jon to this moment was one hour and 20 minutes! I have yet to beat that record, but don't intend on doing it! Not only had I had a good speedy record so far, I'd also gone all natural. Heck, there'd been no time to do anything else! It's ta ta for now!